


Indebted

by Lycoriseum



Series: Solistre & Shadowheart [2]
Category: Baldur's Gate, baldur's gate 3
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27956318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycoriseum/pseuds/Lycoriseum
Summary: War upon the goblins takes it toll.
Relationships: Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Solistre & Shadowheart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047412
Kudos: 19





	Indebted

Chaos. It is utter _chaos_ , and all other senses have been overshadowed by the instinctive drive of survival. Solistre is irked by the fact that they're embroiled in a fight with two leaders by accident, especially after her successful assassination of Minthara in the next chamber. But her temper towards the clumsy idiots that are her companions, is now channeled towards the horde of goblins besieging them from all sides. Her hands and feet move in an unending dance, her ears pricked for movement, guiding her blood-drenched blades from one foe to another, and another–

The guttural chant of a goblin drives her body into a forward roll, and she feels the space behind her explode with the force of a missed spell. Rubble rains on her back while she rises to her feet. Priestess Gut's familiar voice hollers in the distance, then Solistre's vision turns to black when overwhelming force pummels into her chest. She feels a sickening series of cracks as her ribs are crushed, her body blasted backwards, tumbling a good distance over the ground before she lands on her back. What little breath she has is expelled upon impact, and when she inhales, her breath rattles dangerously, then fills with blood. The bitter tang of copper floods her mouth, streaks down the corners. Light re-enters her vision in tiny pinpricks, the sounds of battle around her muted as she lies in a corner of the chamber, staring up at a ceiling she can barely see.

Doesn't matter – not when warmth is receding from her body, the pains she'd felt keenly mere seconds ago fading rapidly. Death, at the hands of _goblins_ , of all creatures. It is a shame – she can hear the whisper of a long-lost matron mother's chide in her ears.

A faint smile curves her cracked, bloodied lips. No matter. She would gladly bear that chide, wherever she'll end up next–

Shadowheart's voice cuts through the darkness, sure as a fire's blaze in the cover of night. In the next instant, Solistre gasps painfully, back arching as her lungs fill with a rush of air, her litany of wounds sealing shut. Her head spins from the whiplash, and her body takes it equally well. Rolling onto her side, she retches onto grime-caked stone, riding out the spasms while sturdy hands clutch at her trembling shoulders.

"Get her up!" Lae'zel roars from behind.

Shadowheart curses, then hauls Solistre upright, whose head spins from the motion. She pants, breathless, with no pain whatsoever in her chest. She is mended. She is alive. _Alive_.

_Denied the embrace of death. Denied a chance to join her…_

Rage surges in her, and Solistre's lips peel back in a growl. She grips Shadowheart by the collar and shoves her against the wall, eyes burning with fury, half-tempted to move her hand to the cleric's throat–

"What in _Hells_ are you doing–?"

Solistre's shoulders jerk forward when one arrow sinks into her back – then two. Shadowheart's eyes widen.

"Oh, for fuck's sake–!"

Solistre whips her head around, and spots two goblins standing atop an elevated wooden platform, reloading their crossbows. Vision turning red, she releases Shadowheart, and melts into the shadows. She emerges on the platform, plucking two spare daggers from the sheaths on her thighs, as the goblins stumble back in panic. Their terrified cries are cut short by daggers to each neck, but Solistre takes no time to revel in the minor victory. A rush of wind bites her ear, and she throws herself aside, dodging another spell from Gut. Raising her head, Solistre's eyes land on the goblin priestess, and a snarl rumbles from her throat.

Stepping into the shadows again, she materialises beside the priestess, who has foreseen her move – but to no avail. Twisting her body to the side, Solistre catches a spell that burns over her shoulder, but it barely slows her down amid her wrath. Solistre plunges her daggers into the front and back of Gut's neck, and rips them brutally in opposite directions, letting Gut fall to the ground with an undignified gurgle.

An arrow slashes past her thigh, and the burst of pain sends a thrum through her body, as her lips part in a bloody grin. Eyeing the goblin archer, she flies at him, sinking her blades deep into flesh. More of his comrades fall upon her as he expires, and it repeats over, and over. Bloodlust guides Solistre's body, numbs the pain from blows she suffers in return, makes her _immortal_ in her warpath. Her blades and arms grow slicker with blood, her grip on the daggers' hilts slippery, but she doesn't stop – not until her blade has punctured Dror Ragzlin's chest, biting into his unworthy heart.

The hobgoblin's eyes bulge, and a ruthless twist of the blade draws a howl from his throat, as Solistre shoves him down to the floor before his throne. Raising her other blade, Solistre tears his throat open, blood spraying across her chest. Ragzlin dies quietly with a single twitch, while Solistre stares down at him, heart pounding in her ears. Then she realises – compared to her own pulse, the chambers are oddly silent.

She looks up from Ragzlin's corpse, and finds her companions standing victorious among bodies strewn across the floor. But they do not move, their eyes fixed upon her, heedless of their own wounds. Solistre rises to her feet, sways a little as she looks down at herself – almost every inch of exposed skin and her favoured Drow armour is coated in blood of different shades.

Lae'zel utters something in Gith, dark eyes shining beneath the flickering light of torches, and takes a step towards her. But Solistre pays her no mind, as tremors start to overtake her body.

She closes her eyes, tilts her face upwards; something sings in her veins, malevolent, yet saccharine.

Her lips move, half in prayer, and in plea. "Dark Mother…"

The daggers fall from her hands, and her body finally gives out from its second battering. She crumples to the ground, darkness enveloping her immediately.

* * *

_She shouldn't dream, but she does. Indistinct shapes, gliding across an expanse of shadow. She chases them, but with each stride she takes, the distance between them grows larger. Her heart twists in agony, in desperate longing, until one figure appears before her. She stops in her tracks, in shock and recognition, and waits as it raises a hand to caress her jaw._

Solistre smiles, crooked with swagger despite her exhaustion, as her head is tilted aside. Reaching up, she clasps a wrist gently, fingertips whispering over soft skin in a caress.

"At least wait 'til I'm healed, darling," she croons in Drow – then stops abruptly when she opens her eyes, and finds grey irises gazing back at her. Not red.

The world crumbles around her as reality reasserts itself. Her lips tremble, before she purses them into a thin line, and releases Shadowheart's wrist. Solistre avoids her healer's searching gaze, as Shadowheart tilts her head to the right, examining the bandages on her neck.

"What did you just say?" Shadowheart asks off-handedly. She tilts Solistre's head back, then moves onto the bandages on the rest of Solistre's body.

As the thin blanket is drawn away, Solistre realises she is naked, and doesn't feel the crust of blood on her skin from the battle. They must've cleaned her up.

"I hope it's 'thank you' in Drow, because frankly, you owe your life to me after today."

A dissenting grunt emanates from her throat, as her face twists with disdain. To her surprise, Shadowheart just chuckles.

"Think I've seen you show more emotion in the last few hours than the weeks I've known you." Shadowheart draws the covers back up to Solistre's chest, then wipes her hands on a clean piece of cloth. "Rest now. You can kiss my feet in the morning."

Solistre lets slip a warning growl, but Shadowheart pins her down by the shoulder before she can rise.

"I said – rest." Shadowheart's face is half-covered in the darkness of night, but the glimpse of her smirk makes Solistre want to swipe it off her face.

When Shadowheart leaves the tent, Solistre forces herself to let go of the indignation – and finds it an easy feat. Anything is easy with this bone-deep fatigue. As Solistre drifts into a peaceful trance, she realises that yes – she does owe her life to Shadowheart. Twice over, in fact.

_Damn it all._

**Author's Note:**

> More PC-focused cos honestly, Shadowheart, I don't know you very well yet ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Since this is a nice lead-up to the celebration, I'll probably follow this up with the waterfall scene in a separate fic.


End file.
